to talk with
him. He knew there was much to consider. Though perhaps he lacked
something of the younger man's keen Indian knowledge he lacked nothing in
experience, and experience told him that the winter, after what had gone
before, had been, but for the one significant incident of Seth's wound,
very, very quiet--too quiet.

"Say, boy," the old man went on, some minutes later, "guess you ain't
yarned a heap 'bout your shootin' racket?"

Seth was suddenly brought back to his surroundings. His eyes thoughtfully
settled on the distant line of woodland that marked the river and the
Reservation. He answered readily enough.

"That shootin' don't affect nothin'--nothin' but me," he said with
meaning.

"I thought Little----"

Seth shook his head. He took Rube's meaning at once.

"That's to come, I guess," he said gravely.

Rube suddenly looked away down the trail in the direction of Beacon
Crossing. His quick ears had caught an unusual sound. It was a "Coo-ee,"
but so thin and faint that it came to him like the cry of some small bird.
Seth heard it, too, and he turned and gazed over the rotting sleigh track
which spring was fast rendering impassable. There was nothing in sight.
Just the gray expanse of melting snow, dismal, uninteresting even in the
flooding sunlight.

Rube turned back to the gateway of the stockade. His pipe was finished and
he had work to do. Seth was evidently in no mood for talk.

"I'd git around and breathe good air fer awhiles," he said kindly, "y'
ain't goin' to git strong of a sudden, Seth."

"Guess I'll ride this afternoon. Hello!"

The cry reached them again, louder, still high-pitched and shrill, but
nearer. Away down the trail a figure in black furs was moving toward
them.

Both men watched the object with the keenest interest. It was a mere
speck on the gray horizon, but it was plainly human, and evidently wishful
to draw their attention.

"Some'un wantin' us?" said Rube in a puzzled tone.

"Seems." Seth was intent upon the figure.

Another "Coo-ee" rang out, and Rube responded with his deep guttural
voice. And, in answer, the bundle of furs raised two arms and waved them
beckoningly.

Rube moved along the trail. Without knowing quite why, but roused to a
certain curiosity, he was going to meet the newcomer. Seth followed him.

Seth's gait was slower than the older man's, and he soon dropped behind.
Suddenly he saw Rube stop and turn, beckoning him on. When he came up the
ol